


you remind me of who i used to be (and i hate it)

by eyemoji



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: M/M, fck i just put that all in "characters" didn't i, update: wow i can't believe this is canon now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 14:20:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12300909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemoji/pseuds/eyemoji
Summary: some things ought to be left in the past. or at the very least, a few light years away.





	you remind me of who i used to be (and i hate it)

**Author's Note:**

> thank u fabia

four bodies burst through a door they shouldn’t have been able to touch, and jacobi misses the parallel completely. it’s not his fault; it’s subtle, albeit there. they don’t ask for permission to be let in. they don’t waste time asking questions because they know there isn’t any to kill. they don’t pretend to care. in short, they don’t make all of his mistakes.

or, well, not his.  _ his _ .

 

what’s the parallel then? well, they wanted in. they wanted in and lovelace removing the door’s motion sensor would make them safer.

they wanted in and lovelace removing the door’s motion sensor would make them safer and in both damn cases _ \-- _ they’re innocent.

 

it’s a little too late before the crew of the hephaestus realizes this last bit, before minkowski takes a closer look at the masked woman in front of her and recognizes the friend she’d made during training on earth, what is now years in the past but fresh in her mind as she stares, slackjawed, in horror at whatever they’ve done to bernoulli.

 

it doesn’t take long before they recognize the others-- jordan, and berkhof, and-- “ _ klein?” _

 

_ dirty words and singed lips still smoking from each other’s heat and loose curls mussed by strong hands and nimble fingers and--  _ god, i love you--

 

there’s not enough tremor in jacobi’s voice to match the incredulity. kepler shoots him a look, though, because he  _ knows, _ has known, will carry it to the grave if jacobi has to make it that way so help him.

 

he doesn’t slip up again.

 

_ icy breath against a crisper kind of sky forms the words they’re only all too happy to say. him, out loud, to the world,  _ you _ are my world-- it’s cheesy and they both know it, but a smile can only make sugar sweeter; there’s no medicine to cure the sickness called love. _

 

when lovelace asks him _ exactly what is your plan after you saw through that lock daniel k jacobi _ , he isn’t lying when he says he’s going to wing it. he’s never been a plan-ahead, work-through-every-meticulous-detail kind of guy; that’s what kepler’s always been for. it showed when he cornered minkowski in a room and asked her to pull the trigger. it showed when he cornered himself in a dark corner of engineering, a familiar, cold weight in his hands and head and heart. it shows now, when he’s just about ready to click his heels and charge through the door to the urania, to kepler, to  _ home-- _

 

_ lidded eyes and hungry tongues and sheets made to be scrabbled at with slippery fingers and everlasting smiles; laughter and sunlight in all the wrong places, but it’s alright. bodies that weren’t necessarily made to fit right into each other but hearts that were, with souls to match. _

 

“what? you gonna  _ seduce _ them?”

“i _ do _ like the menfolk, captain...neither one of these guys is quite my type, but--”

 

one truth, one lie, because jacobi’s always  _ loved _ playing games. fortunately, his voice is always so damn close to the edge of revealing  _ something _ , so dry it’s straddling the line between sarcasm and deep inner turmoil, and  _ boy _ , is it a hard one to balance on. unfortunately, whenever there’s something he’s actually got to say, it’s usually lost in the translation-- this is why he needs people like maxwell around, to balance out his overt lightness, keep him grounded, keep him  _ real _ .

fortunately, no one cares.

 

it’s a real relief when they come to pick him up and the guy who walks through the door is none other than victor riemann himself, sum of all the others in a methodical sort of way; exactly the kind of man who ought to be named after good old bernhard, and methodically overlooked, too, the way everyone’ll always jump to do the integration before reminding themselves there’s an easy way out-- because they’ve always got something to prove, don’t they? everyone does.

 

and if this is the time, if ever, to apply riemannian geometry to everything he sees, well, then, jacobi can’t blame himself from drawing in a breath that’s maybe  _ just _ shorter than usual as he’s escorted past the two guards posted right outside the door; so close, so far; he’s never thought he’s understood that more in his life. because some things you miss more when they’re gone, but mostly you miss things when you remember you once had them, and it’s easy to project, to simplify  _ light years away _ to  _ broken up _ to  _ lost in translation _ when you’ve dreamed the logic away. 

 

because klein? exactly his type.   
at least, once upon a time.

 

_ once upon a ty(m)pe. ha-ha. _

 

there’s a reason we haven’t figured out how to condense the universe into one perfect equation yet.

 

_ everything’s not always right, and by that they mean that they’ll figure it out, solve the problem, eventually.  _ together _. promises in hand-in-hand in eyes that mirror the same stew of storms that never manage to fully blow this house down. it’s strong, this foundation, this wood, these bricks. it resists. _

 

jacobi doesn’t have to wonder what kind of sicko would order the change, only  _ which _ one of the four he knows are onboard this station sparked the gloved hand that lands silently on his shoulder, too steady as riemann pauses, beckons, stands back with a smile that leaves jacobi itching to turn and punch him square in the jaw. 

 

the itch fades as they walk through the hall, only to be replaced with a dull ache that he can’t quite explain. even through the material of whatever constitutes goddard’s excuse for a stormtrooper shell, he thinks he can feel his heat, gentle, pulsing; or maybe that’s just his own heart reminding him it’s still got a place in his chest, here. klein--  _ his _ klein--’s hand is firm and no-nonsense, not the comfortable, relaxed touch he used to be used to.    
jacobi wonders if it’s possible to miss something when it’s right here.

 

his brain knows where they’re headed before his gut does, and  _ that’s _ definitely new. he doesn’t bother wondering why; he’s sure he’ll get all the answers mr perfectly-polished cutter thinks it’s worth to deign to tell him once he steps foot into the room they’re approaching.

 

he’s not wrong.

 

_ “you know i’ll always be here for you, right?” “yeah, of course, i lo--” “no-- i mean-- even if this doesn’t last--” because frayed seams show early, “you can always come to me with anything,  _ for _ anything. i hope you know-- mmph!” and even the best of carpets unravel in the end. _

 

“Daniel,” comes the voice, slicker than slick, the sunshine trapped in an oil spill polluting everything it touches, “come in,” and klein doesn’t flinch like he once confessed was reflex whenever this particular man decided to fill a room.  _ It’s almost as if he isn’t there, _ jacobi thinks, and his mind casts back to some of cutter’s first words on this terrible, terrible day--  _ “she doesn’t do much of  _ anything _ anymore,”  _ and he doesn’t think anything can outsink his heart when cutter informs him with a smile, that whatever is in klein’s system-- whatever is making him  _ not him-- _ is the “full” version. until cutter pulls out a chair and miranda pryce pulls out a syringe and suddenly, he can’t remember what that little thing called  _ hope _ is.

 

he doesn’t like being this person again, so soon after opening up to the refreshing taste of not constantly hosting a war between your own beliefs and dreams. _ the high’s gotta come down sometime, _ though, and he supposes now’s as great a time as any.

  
even as the needle breaks skin, even though by all logical standards  _ he _ should be long gone and over, he thinks he can feel the burn of klein’s gaze through the sealed metal door.

**Author's Note:**

> “Don’t worry; the two of you will be together again very soon.”
> 
> catch me @justasmalltownai


End file.
